Insatiable
by The Yankee Countess
Summary: Tom Branson has created a monster. Sybil and Tom make a wager to bring certain fantasies to life; of course, there's always the risk of getting caught...but sometimes that makes it all the more fun. ACROSS-THE-RUBICON'S Sybil/Tom sexytime challenge "Caught in the Act"


_My answer to Across-the-Rubicon's latest S/T sexytime challenge, "CAUGHT IN THE ACT". Although I suppose some could say it's "debatable" whether or not this counts as being "caught"; I'll let you decide ;o) _

_This story is also dedicated to Repmet, who passed her exams last week, and I told her I would write a story as a gift of congratulations if she gave me a prompt. There's a picture that briefly circulated Tumblr of a beautiful library, with a little set of stairs. She wanted the story to have a reference to that library and those stairs, but also to have Sybil...well, you'll just have to read and see ;o) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this naughty slice of Sybil and Tom doing what they do best...being sexy and awesome. ENJOY!_

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**"Insatiable"  
**_**by The Yankee Countess**_

Tom Branson had created a monster.

And he had no regrets, whatsoever.

His sweet lovely Sybil turned out to be quite the minx in the bedroom. In some ways, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised; Sybil was a very passionate person and when she set her passions into a project…well, she saw it through to the end.

On the night of their wedding, his blushing English bride came to the marriage bed an innocent. Yes, they had kissed a great deal before the wedding…and there were a few instances of rather heavy…petting…but other than that, they managed to keep their passions in check just long enough until the door was closed to the honeymoon suite of the inn which they were staying (Tom didn't want to worry about family members barging in at wee hours and interrupting what he had planned for Sybil…which, God willing, would be a very long and sleepless night). The first time they made love was…earth shattering. In many ways, Tom was a virgin once again too, as this was the first time he had been with a woman since before coming to Downton in 1913. They were both gasping and trying to regain their breath after it happened, and he looked over at Sybil, who was lying deliciously curled at his side, panting and blushing and…to his relief, smiling.

"How…how are you feeling, love?"

She looked up at him, her face a delicious shade of pink, before burying her face against his shoulder and giggling like a girl who had been caught doing something she shouldn't be doing…and loving every second.

"That…" she didn't have the words. "I…I never knew…"

"Me either," he breathed, gathering her close and kissing her deeply. She returned the kiss…and then surprised him by pushing him onto his back and straddling his body.

"I want more."

Tom stared at her, his eyes going wide with shock…but his body responding right away, his cock springing forth once again, eagerly accepting her challenge.

"Are you sure love?" it was difficult, but he wanted to be a caring and loving husband, one that didn't just care about his own wants and needs. Theirs was to be a marriage of equals, as they had long dreamed and discussed. "I mean…aren't you sore?"

"Yes…" she whimpered. "Sore because my body aches to have you fill me again."

Tom groaned at the erotic imagery her simple words created, and lifted himself up to kiss her…and help her guide him inside her once again, encouraging her to ride him, helping her get accustomed to the movements, while enjoying the opportunity to pleasure her breasts with his fingers and lips. That night truly was a sleepless night…and so were many other nights after that one.

Sybil's sexual appetite never seemed to be sated. It was probably easier to count the nights they _didn't _make love than the ones that did (he would run out of fingers if he tried). Also, Sybil had no qualms about making love in the middle of the day or early in the morning—in fact she delighted in the idea of doing it whenever the mood arose, and not having to wait until the evening shadows fell and they were ready to go bed and turn off the light. Sometimes, Tom had to be the one to tell her he needed to rest and regain his breath; it was amazing how quickly she seemed to recover and want to "do it again".

Sybil was always eager to "try something new", be it a new position or, as Tom discovered, a new "place". Nothing was off limits, it seemed. They had made love on the kitchen table, the couch, him sitting on a chair with her on his lap (facing both ways), on the floor, in the bathtub, against the wall…against the bookshelf, much to his delight as he recalled sharing with her his fantasies about catching her in her father's library and having his "wicked way with her". Yes, she especially liked these ideas where they would go back and "recreate" moments they could have had when she was still a "lady" of the house and he the "revolutionary chauffeur". The little minx had even stolen one of the livery jackets from the garage when they had gone back for Mary's wedding. Yes, to say that his wife was an insatiable creature…would be an understatement.

However, nothing surprised Tom more than the wager she had made with him, a month after their daughter's birth, when their sexual escapades were allowed to resume. "If we are going to be trapped here," she murmured into his chest, their bodies still joined and sweat still fresh on their skin, "then we might as well make the most of it."

He arched a brow at her words. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" she looked down at him and playfully ran several circles across his chest with her fingers. "Why don't we make all those fantasies we've been playing at back home…realities?"

He was enjoying the feel of her fingers and his eyes had drifted shut, however they snapped open at her suggestion. Good God almighty…was she suggesting what he thought _she was suggesting?_

"The library…?" he breathed, his voice tight with yearning.

"Mmmmhmmmm," Sybil hummed against his neck, raining kisses across the skin. "And the garage…both the workbench _and_ inside the Renault…"

He groaned, his body becoming even harder than before they had made love.

"The kitchen may be a problem..." she sighed. "We'll have to think of something to get Mrs. Patmore and all of the kitchen staff out—"

"You're genuinely serious about all this, aren't you?"

She grinned down at him and then tried to look innocent. "Why Mr. Branson…does that excite you?"

She squealed in delight as he flipped her over onto her back and began sensually moving inside her once again. "Does…_that_…answer your question…Mrs. Branson?" he asked between thrusts. Sybil replied with a moan of pleasure and once again, they lost themselves in the wonderful ecstasy of their love for each other, just like they had done since their wedding night.

The weeks became months, and the months turned into a new year. By September of 1921, they had succeeded with at least half of their list (they were still trying to figure out a way to make the kitchen become a reality), but all in all, they were quite proud of themselves. Of course, there had been a few "hiccups" here and there. The only problem with trying to have sex in a room in a house that isn't your own…especially one that has scores of servants going about their day to day routine…is that there is always the risk of being caught. But Tom had a feeling his little minx _liked_ that feeling of danger. She certainly seemed to become more…amorous…when the risk of detection was higher. He would never forget the time they were in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce (after the Renault, they decided to christen all of the cars) and Pratt came walking into the garage. They had to lie still and hold their breath while Pratt went about doing something, Tom wasn't sure, but Sybil, the little devil, tried to arch her hips up him, causing him to groan at the sudden movement. She continued this assault on him, causing him to bite his lip to keep from moaning, and for beads of sweat to drip down his brow as he did his best to hold onto whatever composure he had left. The second Pratt left, the door banging in his wake, Tom gripped her hips and thrust his body into her in such quick succession that within a few seconds, they were both screaming their release. Yes…he had created a monster to be sure.

But despite all these close encounters, they still had not been caught…at least not yet. That September, it was announced that the family would travel north to Scotland…and even though Tom and Sybil now lived in a cottage away from the house with their daughter, they were still invited to attend. "So kind of your father to remember that I'm family and not simply staff," he muttered under his breath to her.

"You're the one who accepted the estate management job," Sybil reminded him, again. She would never let him live that down. He did it really for Matthew's sake, because he knew his brother-in-law needed someone to stand in his corner while he tried to keep his wife's future home from falling into financial ruin. However, he could only imagine what some of his friends back in Dublin would say, if they could see him now. He doubted it would be anything positive.

"We don't have to go," Sybil murmured, while rubbing their daughter's back and trying to get her to burp after eating. "I'm perfectly happy staying here…" a mischievous light twinkled in her eyes. "Perhaps we can continue where we last left off? Didn't you once tell me it would serve my father right, to have his daughter taken, _from behind_, in his own bedroom?"

"Sybil…" he warned, although the thought was tempting. Still, the house wouldn't be completely vacant. A majority of the servants would still be present, including Mrs. Hughes, who was good at sniffing out trouble.

"Well…perhaps we should go ahead?" she sighed, their daughter falling asleep against her mother's shoulder. "After all, perhaps as 'estate manager' you should go ahead a day or two early…just to make sure everything is fine and proper."

He knew what she was truly suggesting, and it had nothing to do with the Scottish estate. "You forget my dear, my estate duties lie in Yorkshire alone."

"Yes, but we don't have to pretend that we know that," she grinned, as she took their daughter to her room.

There was something to be said about the idea. He always did like a challenge, and despite how much trouble Sybil's insatiable appetite could get them in, he couldn't imagine ever not encouraging her.

"Alright, let's do it," he announced.

"Mr. Branson, right now?" Sybil gasped with shock as she returned from their daughter's room. "_Here_, on the cottage floor?" She then began to lean provocatively against a nearby bookcase. "Or _here_, perhaps?"

He growled and threw his coat and tie on the floor.

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They had a head start on the rest of the Crawley's, but it wasn't the head start they had been hoping for. They weren't given days, necessarily, but hours. They had a four hour lead, rising at first light of dawn, and taking Matthew's car, while the rest of the family would follow by train. They only stopped to fill the car, and to change their child's nappies. By the time they reached the Downton home in Scotland, Sybil calculated that they had exactly an hour and a half before her family would arrive. "That doesn't leave us much time, does it?" she whispered in his ear as the Scottish butler took their coats and hats.

A local woman was brought in to be their daughter's nanny while they stayed. Normally, Sybil and Tom didn't care for the aristocratic attitude that once a child was born, he or she were shipped off to the nursery to be raised by someone else, however in a moment like this, they were grateful for such a person. The nanny took the child, while Tom and Sybil said they would "explore the house", but preferred to do it alone, without the aid of the housekeeper.

They toured the rooms, smiling at the various servants who were working, nodding their heads or murmuring polite "hello's", but in truth, they were a couple on a mission.

"Surely you know this place by heart," he whispered in her ear.

Sybil shook her head. "It's been so long since we came up here—before the War started, certainly. I have such little memory of it," she whispered back.

They continued their exploration…until they wandered into a room where, miracle of miracles, not one servant was occupying. And a familiar glow fell upon them both…as they took in the sight of all the books that lined the shelves.

"Holy Mary…" Tom gasped, his eyes bulging at the sight of the room. Was it possible? It was larger than the library at Downton!

Sybil giggled. "We seem to be destined for such rooms as these," she teased, her hand sneaking around his back…and giving him a slight pinch on his rump.

Tom gave her a look and grabbed her hand, pulling in for a deep kiss. She giggled and sighed against his mouth, opening her lips and welcoming his searching tongue. When they came up for air, Tom shook his head as he looked around the room. "As much as I love books and libraries, I can't help but feel this is a little…_excessive_."

"Tom, are you really going to stand here, now, and grumble about the excesses of the aristocracy…" her hand slid down his body…until it found the bulge in his trousers. "When you could be making love to your wife against the shelves?"

He groaned and caught her wrist. "Well, when you put it like that…"

She laughed as he chased her to a nearby shelf…and then they both froze as they looked upon the small little staircase (or the rather large stepladder, depending on how you looked at it). "Well…that's rather convenient," he chuckled, a wicked gleam forming in his eyes.

For once, Sybil seemed to be the cautious one. She bit her lip as she examined the staircase/stepladder. "Could be a little dangerous, don't you think?"

He pulled her closer to him, his hands already beginning to guide her up the steps. "More dangerous than what you did in the car last week?" he teased.

Sybil's blush could light up the London sky. Yes, he still had dreams about what she had done to him…while he was driving. She tried to regain some composure. "What if I fall?"

A gasp escaped her lips as without warning, his hands were gripping her rump and lifting her off her feet, her hands gripping his shoulders while her legs automatically began to wrap around his waist. "You know I always catch you…" he growled, his lips wasting no time in assaulting the pulse point on her neck. Sybil groaned in pleasure, and her nails already were scoring his scalp and the back of his neck.

"Yes…yes…take me, Tom, take me right now!"

"God yes!"

She gripped the shelves while he pushed her skirts up to her waist, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers, ready to push her deliciously wet knickers aside before filling her beautiful, tight body with his hardness while he buried his face against her lovely, bouncing breasts. Yes, he could see himself liking this library and its convenient stepladder very much.

His cock was free, and aching to be inside his wife. Tom's fingers pushed her knickers aside, purposefully sliding a finger in her heated canal, causing her to gasp much to his pleasure. "I love you," he whispered against her lips.

"I love you," she gasped. "Hurry, please!"

"Yes, milady," he growled, guiding his cock inside her heat.

The head had just begun to slide inside…when voices were suddenly heard _outside_ the library doors!

…And one of those voices was Robert.

"Shit!" they both hissed. There was only one way in…and one way out of the library. They were trapped.

"We have to hide!" Sybil gasped.

"Hide?" Tom echoed, carefully helping Sybil down from the stairs and looking around the room. Where was there to hide?

"Over there!" Sybil hissed, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. Tom hadn't even righted his pants, and Sybil was dragging him across the room to where a desk lay. "Quick!" she signaled, diving under the desk before the door opened. Tom, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

He only had just enough time, to sit down in the chair that Sybil had pushed aside, and pull it up to the desk so that Robert would not be able to see him in his rather…undressed…state, as he entered the library.

"Sybil? Are you—oh, Branson," Robert murmured, seeing Tom sitting at the desk across the room. "I was told you were both in here, but…clearly it's just you."

"Um…yes," Tom smiled, hoping he didn't look too nervous. "Sybil is with the baby."

"Ah, of course…" Robert sighed. "When did you two arrive?"

"Um, no more than an hour ago?"

Robert rolled his eyes. "What a waste of petrol; you should have joined us on the train."

Tom prayed that Robert would grow tired of this conversation and simply leave. Sybil remained under the desk, no doubt waiting for him to do just that.

…And then something happened.

_No…no…no, she wouldn't…SHE WOULDN'T!_

…But she did.

His cock was still hanging free between his legs…and Tom swore under his breath, as he felt his wife's clever and wicked fingers begin to stroke him.

"The rail journey was quite pleasant; I have a feeling that the baby would have slept the entire way…" Robert continued, clearly unaware of what was happening. Tom prayed that would remain so, but it was hard; oh God, it was _very_ hard.

He sucked in a breath as her fingers traveled down the base of his cock to cup his balls. Good God, he was going to spend all over that desk if she kept doing that!

"Cora and the girls are upstairs, changing after the journey; Matthew wanted to see the stables right away…" Robert went on.

Tom tried to smile, tried to look as if he was paying attention to anything his father-in-law was saying, while Sybil had her away with his body. But if he thought he would die from the stroking of her hand…he clearly was not prepared for what she did next.

"MMMmmmmmm…" she softly hummed around his cock…as she took him in her mouth.

"Jesus!"

Robert turned back to Tom, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

Tom gripped the desk…trying to keep what composure he could. "I…I…" he looked down at the desk…and there, divinely placed perhaps, was a large, beautifully illuminated copy of the Bible, open to one of the gospels, depicting Christ healing the sick. "I…I was admiring the illustrations…" he tried to explain, while at the same time trying to keep from groaning as Sybil licked the underside of his cock, before settling her lips on the head, and nuzzling it like a kitten.

Robert looked down at the Bible and nodded his head. "Yes, perhaps one of the oldest books we have," he explained. "My father purchased this from a monastery in Naples; the monks believed it was written sometime between 1470 and 1500. It's in Latin, so I have no idea what it says."

Sybil's mouth was now attempting to engulf as much of his cock as she could. She had told him once she was practicing in "perfecting her gag reflex"; how she was doing this? He had no idea, but God bless her for trying! Beads of sweat were pooling on his skin as she added pressure to her mouth, sucking his cock deeper and deeper into her mouth.

"Branson…are you alright?"

"W-w-what?" he stammered. His fingers continued to the grip the table. No doubt his knuckles were turning white.

"You don't look very well," Robert explained with a deep frown. "You look flushed and…dear God, man, are you sweating? Do you have some kind of fever?"

_You don't know the half of it._ Even though he couldn't see her, he knew Sybil, in her own way, was laughing. He could feel the vibrations along his cock, and he bit his lip to keep himself from going over the edge.

"I…I'm fine," he lied. It was getting harder and harder to think, let alone concentrate on having a conversation, especially when all the blood had long since been drained from his brain.

Robert's frown deepened. "You don't look fine…"

Sybil's sucking did not cease. In fact, it increased…and her hands were returning, gripping the base of his cock and pumping it into her mouth, as she slurped and suckled more and more. He was going to lose it. That was her intention, the minx! She wanted him to cum RIGHT THERE, with her own father standing but a few feet away.

"You look like you're going to be sick!" Robert accused. "Or at the very least, like you're going to faint."

Faint? Yes, yes, that was a very real possibility right now.

"I…" Tom tried to speak, but what could be said? He didn't have the words anyway, and he couldn't hold back the groan, especially when Sybil's hand moved to his balls once again, and squeezed them, while taking his cock as deeply as she could into her mouth and hitting the back of her throat.

"OH GOD!"

"BRANSON, WHAT IS IT?" Robert gasped, looking at Tom in absolute horror, as Tom began to shake and convulse at the desk while his body gave in to the pleasure, and his release took hold. "GOOD GOD MAN!" Robert sounded generally concerned, something Tom wasn't used to hearing when it came to himself. "Are you having a seizure?"

Tom did the only thing he could do…he collapsed against the desk, his head hitting the surface as the last of orgasmic tremors shook his body, while Sybil happily cleaned him with her tongue.

"I'll send for a doctor!" Robert gasped, turning and moving quickly out of the library…finally leaving, at last.

As soon as the door shut, Sybil burst out laughing. Tom groaned and then pushed himself away from the desk, his spent cock glistening in the sunlight that streamed through the library's windows. "You…" he panted, not sure if he wanted to kiss her or strangle her. "I…can't…believe…you…DID THAT!"

Guilty was the last thing she looked. "I do apologize, Mr. Branson, but…what could a girl do? I mean, there I was, hiding beneath that desk, and there you were…still hard and throbbing…" she grinned, licking her lips and causing him to groan again. "And…I just couldn't help it. You looked so…_delicious_."

"MINX!" he accused, rising from his chair and launching himself at her. Sybil squealed with delight as he grabbed her about the waist and looked fully ready to throw her down onto the desk and have his way with her right then and there.

The library doors suddenly burst open, and Tom backed away from her in lightning speed, as well turning his back so he could tuck his recently loved and spent manhood back inside his trousers.

"The doctor will be here soon, I—Sybil?"

Sybil blushed, smiling up at her father as she righted herself as best she could away from the desk. "Hello, Papa."

"What…I didn't see you come in here…"

Her father looked very confused, and Tom couldn't help but smirk. Now it was her turn to explain; Lord how he wished he could turn the tables on her fully, and have _her_ sitting in that chair with _him_ under that desk…

"I heard you rushing out of the library, and…I came down the servant's staircase, which is just outside—and heard something about the need for a doctor and that Tom was sick?"

She was trying to look innocent, and Tom wondered if she was going to succeed in tricking her father?

Robert then moved his eyes to Tom. "You seem to have improved…"

"Yes," Tom managed to answer, his voice a little higher pitched though than usual. He quickly coughed and began clearing his throat. "But…but I am feeling a little weak kneed," he murmured. "And I think it's best that I go straight to bed."

"I'll go with you!" Sybil piped up. "After all, as a nurse, you shouldn't be left alone after suffering from a possible seizure."

Robert frowned, clearly confused. "How did you know it was a possible seizure? How—dear God in heaven, what is that on your dress?"

Sybil looked down and suddenly her cheeks began to burn. Tom noticed too, and felt the same fire light his face, although at the same time, he couldn't help but grin at the rather awkward position his wife was now finding herself in.

"Um…the baby, she spit up on me during the trip. And…and I didn't have the chance to change, but I should go and do that right away!"

Tom shook his head. Should he be worried about the talent his wife had in saying things that were false but sounded so convincing?

She turned then and moved quickly, along with him, to the door of the library, their freedom within sight. "We're coming back here," he hissed into her ear as they passed the steps.

"Absolutely," she giggled. "We have that desk to christen too, now."

With clasped hands, they moved quickly out of the library, and dashing as fast as they could up the stairs to the chamber they would be staying in while visiting.

Robert was still confused, and remained in the library long after they had gone. Something wasn't right…and…what was that smell? He moved around the desk, wondering if Tom had perhaps been sick during his sudden seizure. He noticed something on floor…as well as the edge of the chair, where Tom had been sitting. He leaned close, peering at the strange stains…which were the same color as whatever was on Sybil's dress. What on earth had caused them? How had they—

Robert stiffened suddenly, and all the color drained from his face as a sudden realization dawned on him.

The color that had disappeared came back like a roaring inferno, as did his voice. "SYBIL! BRANSON!"

**THE END**

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_Hehehehehehe, hope you enjoyed ;o) Please leave a comment! THANKS FOR READING!_


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